


transparent answer

by mido



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Comfort, M/M, commonly known as shirosei, kurosei - sei's true form
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:32:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mido/pseuds/mido
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the brightness of the walls around him, the ever-present scent of bleach and alcohol, the irritatingly loud machines ticking his life away that caused it. When one stays in the same place for so long, you can't help but blend in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	transparent answer

**Author's Note:**

> casually uses kagepro song as title

It was the brightness of the walls around him, the ever-present scent of bleach and alcohol, the irritatingly loud machines ticking his life away that caused it. When one stays in the same place for so long, you can't help but blend in.  
Although Sei had originally created Usui at Toue's command for an Allmate (with the added bonus of having a Rhyme referee for the entirety of Sei's diminishing lifespan), he didn't really mind the toll it took on his health. Usui wasn't another miniscule chunk of himself he'd sent somewhere for some unrealistic reason; she was bigger than that – a personality all her own, simply developed off of an original. Still, it would be an understatement to say that Sei had expected the body they built for her, but it suited her nonetheless. Usui's booming voice and fluffy teal twintails were the polar opposite of Sei's well-kept black hair and soft, quiet words, yet there was still some sort of resemblance there. Some sort of feature on their faces, some sort of shared glimmer in their eyes. 

Of course, Usui wasn't the only one with her own personality. Kuro didn't have his own body as she did, but he sure as hell was his own being. His appearance (in Sei's mind – Sei wasn't sure he'd ever get to see him in the flesh) hadn't deviated from Sei's at birth as the latter's had, meaning he was white as the walls encasing them. Sure, Sei was pale, but Kuro was nearly _translucent_ amidst the blinding brightness of Oval Tower. Black designs danced across his chest, dripping down his torso and fading to simple lines at his feet; it looked not unlike ink due to the sharp contrast it was to the deathly white. He had never bothered with clothes (he could've conjured up any he wanted), seeing as his genitals were vastly different than a normal human male's. Instead of having a penis hanging between his legs, as Sei did, Kuro was graced with a slit not unlike a vagina instead. Sei had been around him long enough to understand he represented life, and if anything the slight divergence from human anatomy suited the former.

Sei was rather fond of this side of himself. Whenever the shrill beeping of the machine hooked up to Sei's wrist got a little too irritating, or when the stuffed animals surrounding his makeshift throne seem to slouch over more than usual, he would retreat into the alcove of his mind that Kuro usually occupied and be welcomed with open arms. Sei thinks that if he ever wrapped his arms around someone in a semblance of an embrace, he'd feel bony and uncomfortable, more cold than warm. Kuro, on the other hand, is both taller and larger in general than his pale counterpart, with thick and muscled thighs and strong, beefy arms. His chest winds into his torso with a healthful girth, broad shoulders complimenting his midsection nicely. Compared to Kuro, Sei looks like cancer ten times over. The latter’s arms hung lankily from bony shoulders, and his legs connected to a skinny middle like toothpicks. His fingers look as if they’re glued to his hand by knobby knuckles, and his nails seem to be in a perpetual state of stubbiness from his habit of biting them. Kuro’s fingernails are long and sharp, colored in a milky white not unlike snow. 

Sometimes Sei wishes this sickly body wasn’t his, that he had muscles like Kuro to pull himself out of his chair and stand up without support, that his voice was booming and commanding like Usui’s, that he didn’t have to pull a machine that’s only purpose was to be lugged around and yelp out abrupt beeps to remind him he couldn’t (and never) would be able to stand on his own.

Strangely enough, in those moments, Sei isn’t bothered by this reoccurring revelation. He’s gotten used to it, in a sense, and he knows that being bound to life support and a throne he loathes is okay. He’s not alone in this hellhole; he’s still got Kuro and Usui.

While Usui doesn’t speak with him as much (doubling as the essential to Rhyme battles and fulfilling duties as Toue’s Allmate was quite the time-consuming task), her consciousness was sure to stop by when she could and dwindle her time away talking to Sei about stupid occurrences she’d noticed, a foolish move someone had made in Rhyme, some task Toue had assigned that seemed borderline insane. Sei listened with a lax, half-lidded gaze, falling into a trance at the familiar booming yet calming sound of Usui’s voice. He’d tried to braid her hair when she visited like this once, and although he knew it would only last in his mind and she’d still have her everyday twintails when she left, he’d wanted to try. She had sat with her calves tucked underneath her, rambling aimlessly about the usual as Sei threaded his hands through the downy teal waterfall, more caught up in the comforting feel of it than actually braiding it. When she couldn’t ignore her tasks any longer and stood to leave, Sei withdrew his fingers slowly, memorizing the texture of her hair just in case it was the last time he’d feel it.

Sei’s snapped out of his reminiscing by an abrupt needle in the crook of his elbow; he’d been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t notice them enter. A bruise leftover from the last time they’d drawn blood happened to be nestled in the same place they decided to prick him, and Sei winced despite himself at the reinforced pain. 

_”You can join me like you did last time, you know. You don’t have to ask permission.”_

Sei allows his eyelids to drift shut, the irritating sting of the needle fading quickly as he retreats farther back into his mind until that smell stopped tickling at his nose, until the only thing lighting his way was the soft glow of a candle on the wall, illuminating the space in front of him. Kuro looked sleepier than usual, the light throwing pale orange and yellow hues across his white hair. “Are you tired?” Sei asks in his quiet voice, padding closer to where his counterpart lie comfortably in the heap of pillows and stuffed animals he’d usually lounge in. Kuro doesn’t answer, just spreads his arms and holds them up to Sei, gesturing for the latter to join him. Kuro’s eyelids flutter when Sei settles himself between the white-haired one’s thighs, nestling into his welcoming embrace. He feels his eyes droop in contentedness when Kuro wraps his strong arms around his thin and gaunt body, his black and white skin warm to the touch. Sei burrows his face in Kuro’s chest, eliciting a sigh from the latter. “Tell me about Aoba.” He murmurs into the pale designs beating with life across the white-haired one’s body. Kuro’s tentacles surface from the pile on either side of him, following suit with his arms and draping themselves loosely around Sei’s torso as he threads his hands slowly through the former’s silky black hair, careful not to scratch Sei’s scalp with his nails.

“Aoba is taller than you now. He’s grown a few inches, and Shiro says he’s still spending time with that friend of his, Koujaku. He says they like to frequent a nearby tattoo parlor-slash-bar because one of their other acquaintances runs it. Shiro says his name is Mizuki, and he tattooed a teardrop on his cheek.” Sei makes a quiet (nearly inaudible) noise of interest, confirming he’s listening at the same time. “Shiro tells me that he’s lonely, and that Restraint doesn’t converse with him often. It seems like a waste to me; if they’re both lying in the depths of Aoba’s mind together, why don’t they talk once in a while? It’s a depressing existence, when you consider it.” 

Kuro stays silent for a while, then leans his face forward into Sei’s hair, inhaling the scent of ammonia and bleach it’s been infused with after being exposed to it for such a long time. It makes his nose twitch, but in a way the smell is distinct to Sei; there’s something the latter mixes into it that Kuro can’t quite put his finger on, but he knows it’s there nonetheless. “So ridiculous.” He mumbles faintly, letting his eyes shut silently. 

Sei notices the noiseless change in Kuro’s voice and leans his head back, winding a toothpick arm around the other in an attempt at replicating the comfort of the white-haired one’s soothing hold. He uses the other to reach up and cup Kuro’s cheek, the latter’s eyes drifting open slightly at the touch. Sei’s hand snakes around to the back of the other’s head, pulling him down lightly until their foreheads meet. “Hey.” He breathes, exhaling his words more than actually saying them. Kuro’s stormy eyes look up to encounter Sei’s half-lidded, sleep-encrusted gaze. The latter removes his other arm from around Kuro’s waist, lifting both his hands to place them gently on snowy white cheeks. Sei’s eyelids droop closed again, his dark lashes contrasting his pale complexion deeply. The former continues watching the black-haired boy, and he feels something tugging at the corners of his lips when Sei’s curve up into a content smile, and he shifts his head to the side to nuzzle into Kuro’s neck. 

Shiro doesn’t have any of this, Sei realizes. He doesn’t have anyone to talk to when he needs reconfirmation that he’s real, that his existence isn’t all for naught. Sei knows Kuro isn’t the best one to ask for that, with his riddle-ridden way of speaking. He wishes he could do something, that he could reach out to Aoba and tell him the truth about Scrap, about how Shiro wasn’t evil and hostile as he knew his brother made him out to be. He wishes he could hold Restraint’s face in his hands and ask if it’s really that good an idea to give up speaking to his opposite in favor of loneliness. He wishes that he could be the one able to talk to Shiro instead of Kuro for once, that he’s the one who could reassure him that there was a purpose for him, he wasn’t meant for nothing. 

Unfortunately, that’s not the way things work. Kuro’s connection with Shiro from birth still holds strong, but they both feel it weakening every time Aoba forces the latter down deeper in his mind. Kuro isn’t good with explanations, and Sei understands the times Shiro rejects the white-haired one’s calm attitude, refusing to listen or speak to him. It was irritating enough to be held down for so long with no ability to do anything about it, and to have the only one you can talk to be such a tranquil individual must surely be only a step from anger-induced insanity. Sei can wish and wish all he wants, but in the end, he can’t do anything for Aoba, Restraint, or Shiro. 

He can only lay here in the depths of his mind, resting his head on Kuro’s chest and listening to recounts of conversations with someone he may die before he meets.

**Author's Note:**

> uwah finally i finished one of the million unfinished dmmd fics i have in my docs  
> inspired by [dizmama](http://dizmama.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
